MUTINY!
by theoriginalcowboy
Summary: In a post-apocalyptic Washington, DC where divergence is common, political tensions run high, and society begins to wonder if the faction system is the key to survival and prosperity. All original characters, new city, new story!


"Eyes to Griff," Tor Farouk called out over the radio. "You still awake?" No response. Tor groaned and whirled back around to the computer, typing rapidly. One of the cameras in the fifth floor west hallway was flickering again. He checked the network strength from the terminal. Weak, as he suspected. Probably a loose cable or something, but going all the way up to the upper floor of the Dauntless fortress was quite the task, one he did not feel like doing.

"Go check a camera for me," Tor pleaded over the radio. Wherever Griff was, he did not respond. Tor could not blame him. It was late, sometime after three in the morning, and Griff Adams had just finished his surveillance shift not fifteen minutes ago. With over seventeen miles of corridors, the Dauntless fortress was a sprawling commune for of the faction's needs. The two uppermost levels, the fourth and fifth floors, were residential apartments of various sizes, depending on the needs of the faction member. Tor figured Griff would be closer to the camera on his way to his own apartment than he would be, being on the first basement level and all.

Tor groaned and stood up from the desk. His setup included flatscreen monitors stacked in two rows, three monitors wide. Most of the monitors showed camera screens - the kitchens and mess hall in one corner, residential floors in another, the Pit in the center. All public areas in Dauntless had cameras, as well as City Center. Despite the amount of surveillance, not everything was recorded. Hardware for digital storage was still limited, so having eyes on the monitors at all times was crucial. If surveillance saw something, it could be recorded, but recording new footage meant overwriting old footage. A flickering camera needed to be fixed, and he had to go fix it.

The basement halls were silent, except for the low hum of the electronic equipment powering the fortress. While every floor had its own mechanical rooms, the first basement level was the heart of Dauntless operations. Above them was the largest Dauntless common area which included the mess hall, various administration offices, and commissary, an area known as the Pit. Tor walked rapidly through the empty halls towards the closest stairwell. Even though there was a gradual slope to the floors so that foot travel between the floors - the five above ground and the two basement levels - was accessible, there were still stairwells and alternate passages throughout the fortress.

Passing the main control room, the glow of monitors showing camera feed caught Tor's attention. On the Dauntless network, live feeds were public. He did not realize someone would be in there, watching. He was the only one assigned for surveillance that night, he thought.

As he walked around the desks, he spotted his company.

"Oh, sorry," he half-mumbled, once he recognized the City Patrol captain. Bree Duncan was casually lounged in a desk chair in the middle of main aisle, her feet propped on the corner of the desk. She whirled around at the sound of his voice, still slouched. Tor pushed a chair over next to her. "Didn't know you'd be in here at this hour, boss."

Bree made a non-committal noise. "I'm not here," she said, kicking her feet back the desk. Tor eyed the flask in her hand. "Not officially, at least." She took a sip from it.

"Well in that case," Tor said, taking the container from her. Hardly anything left in it, but he swallowed what was left. The warmth and burn overwhelmed his mouth, and Tor did everything he could to keep from gagging and coughing.

Bree smirked at him, and took the flask back. "That was the last of my supply," she said. Tor could not tell if her dry tone was out of bitterness or due to her intoxicated state. Probably a bit of both, he figured. After all, she did not seem that drunk. Whatever she was drinking was strong, stronger than the stuff he got for himself. Alcohol was not his poison, though uppers were a different story.

"You ready for the wave of new initiates tomorrow?" he asked, his eyes jumping to the camera feed of that hallway, flickering and full of static. After tomorrow, the camera feeds will only get worse. Initiates often tampered with them once they realized they were there.

"You mean today?" Bree quipped.

"You know what I meant," Tor answered. "Have you been to sleep yet?" he asked.

"No," she answered truthfully.

"See? It's still tomorrow until you go to sleep."

"Every day is today when you don't sleep."

He could not argue with her. His days muddled together in the overnight shifts, a night owl by nature. The stimulants he used to help stay up did not do him any favors though. Tor could not help but notice that Bree did not answer the original question. Her face hardened. Dauntless initiation was a chaotic time, especially during the first two stages, and as the City Patrol was charged with keeping the peace, he knew Bree had her hands full.

Tor's thoughts drifted to his own initiation, the 145th class of Dauntless. Sneaking out of the initiate quarters, finding the fighting rings, hopping the trains during a game of Dare. Nowadays he could not remember the last time he took the trains to City Center, let alone play dangerous drinking games. Part of the thrill was the risk of getting caught. Tor wondered if it had changed for Bree too; she was not much older than he was. When did he make the switch from being one who was watched to the one doing the watching? When did Bree go from being the one who needed peace to being the peacekeeper?

"You still need that camera fixed?" Bree asked as she stood up, stretching her arms and shoulders. "I heard you over the radio. I'm headed that way myself. I'll keep my radio on."

"Oh, yeah," Tor said, suddenly remembering why he wandered out that way to begin with. "It shouldn't be anything more than a loose cable." He stood up also and pushed the chair back over to the desk as Bree left.

He had barely got back to surveillance room and pulled up the flickering camera by the time his radio went off.

"Patrol to Eyes," Bree called out. Tor checked the time. He heard rumors that City Patrol could make it between any two points within the fortress in under five minutes, but this was the first time he had seen it himself.

"Eyes to Patrol," Tor responded. "How is it looking up there, Bree?"

The seconds ticked by. He could see Bree just standing there in the static-filled camera feed.

"What is it?"

"You're going to want to see it for yourself," she finally answered.


End file.
